


I Pretend You're Mine All The Damn Time

by vondrostes



Category: One Direction (Band), Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Bottom Harry, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Non-Penetrative Sex, Sex Toys, Unrequited Love, heavily implied louis/harry though not by name, implied/referenced taylor/karlie throughout, taylor POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 20:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15957251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: All this time, Taylor had thought she was alone, but the truth was that she and Harry had always been in the same place together, standing on opposite sides of the glass.





	I Pretend You're Mine All The Damn Time

**Author's Note:**

> Before you freak out about me writing Haylor (yeah, yeah, I know) please read the following:  
> It's bottom Harry. I'm serious. Also in this oneshot both parties are explicitly queer. In fact, pretty much all the internal monologue is gay angst over Karlie. (There is also heavily implied Larry angst, but Louis isn't mentioned by name.) The timeline for this is early 2014, but I've kept it purposely vague so I don't have to do too much research.
> 
> If this still isn't your thing, feel free to give it a miss, but I hope some of you will enjoy it! I wanted to do something short and experimental. I've never really written this type of smut before, and writing Taylor's POV was an experience all on its own.
> 
> I'm on Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s

There were bad ideas, and then there were _bad_ ideas. And this idea? Well, it was the worst.

Taylor and Harry had met up a handful of times since this thing had started between them. Always for sex, with no strings attached. It wasn’t the happily ever after she’d briefly envisioned when they were actually dating, but maybe at the back of her mind she’d always known there was no hope of that for them.

They were different people now than they’d been back then. Maybe that should have made things weird when they finally fell back into bed, but it was oddly comfortable, even when they didn’t talk. Especially when they didn’t talk.

Taylor was freezing when she finally ended up on Harry’s doorstep. Or rather, the plastic-sheeted entryway separating the inhabitable part of his house from the bit that was still under construction. She couldn’t see why anyone would choose to invite their hook-ups back to their half-built mansion, but she wasn’t complaining. It was better than being alone.

Some distant echo of memory pinged at the back of her mind as she pulled out her phone to text Harry. _Here._

He was at the door a little more than a minute later, wrapped up in an oversized sweater that dangled past the first knuckle of his fingers. He looked smaller like this, and suddenly Taylor was grateful that she’d decided to wear heels. It made it easier to see Harry, instead of the face that had been haunting her for weeks.

The feeling of relief lasted only until he smiled, when his toothy grin brought everything rushing back. Taylor couldn’t figure out why it was so damn hard to look at his face without seeing _hers_ instead.

“Can we go inside?” she asked impatiently. “I know your fans think you’re in LA still, but it’s freezing out here.”

“Yeah, sure.” He led her into the dark house, past rooms that were still little more than plywood and concrete, until finally they reached something that resembled a bedroom, even though the only furniture inside was a king-sized mattress on the floor next to a tiny modern nightstand. The room around it was huge, which only made it seem more empty.

Taylor started to shed her clothes as soon as she stepped inside. It was warmer, at least, otherwise she might have gone back to her car or demanded they move things to a hotel instead. The other option, sleeping at Harry’s director’s house nearby, was not an experience that Taylor cared to repeat after being caught completely naked the morning after by the man’s wife.

“Right to it, then?” Harry sounded amused.

“Early flight tomorrow.” Taylor flopped down onto the bed once she was out of her clothes, and stared up at Harry, waiting for him to follow suit.

It took him considerably less time, considering he’d answered the door in a sweater and joggers with nothing underneath.

Taylor admired him abstractly as he undressed. He’d put on a little weight since last time; it looked good on him. The longer hair looked nice too, but she couldn’t quite say that she liked it. It made him prettier in a way that confused her, made it harder to separate him from the things she wasn’t allowed to have.

“There’s condoms in the top drawer,” Harry told her as he climbed awkwardly into bed beside her. “Bedside table.” He sounded half-asleep already, and that didn’t bode well for their time together.

Taylor sighed and reached over to open the drawer, already mentally preparing herself to do all the work in this particular encounter. But what she saw inside made her pause, reevaluate.

“Harry?” Taylor said cautiously.

“Hmm?”

“Why is there a vibrator in your nightstand?”

When she glanced back at Harry, she could see his face glowing red in the darkness as he struggled to come up with an answer.

Taylor wouldn’t have been angry if he’d told her that he brought girls here sometimes, even though he’d said before that this was the place he went to get away from everyone, to have some peace and quiet for a while. Taylor had been flattered that he’d chosen to invite her here; now she just felt vaguely upset that she’d been lied to. Again.

Harry sucked his lower lip into his mouth, and then released it. “It’s mine,” he said quietly.

It took Taylor a minute to register what he meant. “Yours, as in….”

“I use it on myself. Sometimes.”

“Can I try?” The question surprised Taylor even as it was still leaving her mouth. “On you,” she clarified, in case Harry was confused by what she was asking.

“You…want to?” he sounded like he couldn’t fathom why she would even ask, and that made her face heat in embarrassment.

“Sure,” she said, feigning nonchalance. “Everyone gets bored of missionary sometimes, right?”

“All the time,” Harry replied, and there was an edge to his voice that made Taylor think he meant something he wasn’t saying.

She had to bite back the “me too” that threatened to escape her lips.

“Okay,” Taylor said as she lifted the object delicately out of the drawer. “So how do I…?”

“Button on the bottom,” he told her. “You’ll need to use lube.”

Right. Because Harry wasn’t a girl, she reminded herself. Maybe there was something wrong with her that she kept forgetting.

Taylor had never done this before, not to anyone but herself. Her fingers shook as she pushed the vibrator inside, not expecting the resistance at first, or the way Harry rolled his hips with a quiet groan when it was all the way inside him.

“It feels good?” she double-checked, still unsure of herself, of him.

Harry’s eyes blinked open again. “You think I’d do this to myself if it didn’t?” he asked, huffing out a laugh that got cut off when Taylor pulled the vibrator out a few inches before pushing it back in.

Taylor felt heady watching him come undone like this, beneath her, while every twist and turn of her wrist yanked out more and more breathy moans from his throat. She felt powerful, and then immediately ashamed for feeling that way, before the confusing mix of emotions was washed away with one halting cry.

“Right there,” Harry gasped as she pressed in at a new angle. “Right there, right there, _fuck_.”

Taylor felt a tight clench in her gut as she pushed harder only to have Harry buck into it, practically wailing in response. His voice was an octave higher, settling somewhere in the realm of androgyny, and that had her mind spinning in circles, frantically dreaming up scenarios of doing this with a different body underneath her.

She squashed them down, forcing herself to focus on Harry, on the sweat trickling down the flat planes of his chest, his hard cock straining upwards toward his navel. The familiarity of it, even though there was nothing familiar about what they were doing.

Suddenly Taylor wished she’d asked to get her fingers inside him first, just so she could know what it felt like.

“Can I try something?” she asked, the idea coming to her from out of nowhere. Her heart was racing as the image coalesced into something solid in her mind, Harry under her the way she’d always been under him.

“Anything.”

The blind, breathless trust in his voice was so overwhelming that Taylor caught herself thinking that if their sex life had been like this before, they might never have broken up. Or maybe it would have just prolonged the inevitable.

Sex was a band-aid plastered over a gaping wound, one that needed stitches before it could ever heal. It was too bad Taylor was afraid of needles.

Harry wasn’t afraid of anything, and she envied him that as she carefully pushed his knees up toward his shoulders, remembering the countless times she’d been in the same position, hating it without even having the words to express why.

Harry didn’t look like he hated it. His eyes were glassy like they’d been the first time Taylor had really kissed him, with intent, the night she’d been angry over a text that had gone unanswered, a phone call that went straight to voicemail. The look on his face was one she’d imagined in a different context countless times, contorting a different mouth into an unambiguous expression of pleasure.

“Like this,” she said, waiting for him to grab his thighs to hold him there before she reached back down and pushed the vibrator as deep as it would go, testing to make sure it wouldn’t slip out in Harry’s new position.

“Thought you were gonna fuck me,” Harry joked as she let go of the vibrator before settling in between his legs with her own thighs spread, almost sitting on him, but not quite.

“I am,” she told him, and then she rolled her pelvis against his in one smooth movement, grinding her clit along the long line of his still-hard cock, feeling the ghost of the vibrations as she pressed down hard.

Harry tipped his head back, gasping at the unexpected friction. Taylor kept going, less concerned with his pleasure than the pressure coiling hot and fast in her belly as she glided over him. It wasn’t so much the actual feeling as it was knowing that someone looking in on them would have seen Taylor between Harry’s legs, pushing into him, _fucking him_ , while he keened uncontrollably beneath her.

She was surprised when he came first with a jolting thrust directly against her clit, only spurring her on faster as she chased her own orgasm, willfully ignorant of the pained whimpers slipping from Harry’s lips as she ground down against his softening cock.

When she came only moments later, her world went black, and for a split second, it wasn’t Harry lying spent and sated underneath her.

Taylor rolled off with a groan and threw and arm over her eyes. She heard the vibrator stop a few seconds later and felt vaguely apologetic. She couldn’t imagine the onslaught of sensation had felt good so soon after orgasming, but Harry hadn’t complained.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked suddenly. “It might upset you.”

“Yeah,” Taylor replied as she lowered her arm away from her eyes, because she was nothing if not a sucker for punishment. She couldn’t think of anything better than having Harry hurt her one more time as they laid together on a mattress in the middle of an empty bedroom, waiting for the post-sex endorphins to fade away so the regret could fully set in. Why not give it an early start?

“I was sleeping with someone else the first time we were together,” he said quietly.

That wasn’t exactly a shock. Taylor had always known he was keeping things from her. Not that she blamed him. Their relationship had been doomed to fail from the very start. She’d been keeping things from him, too.

“Okay,” she replied.

But he wasn’t finished. “Sometimes I would pretend you were him when we kissed.”

Taylor felt her heart drop into her stomach at the words, but she couldn’t tell what the emotion was that had caused the feeling. _Him_. That changed things, suddenly. All this time, Taylor had thought she was alone, but the truth was that she and Harry had always been in the same place together, standing on opposite sides of the glass.

“Just now,” she said, rolling over again to face him, “were you still thinking of him?”

Harry’s face was expressionless, dripping silver in the moonlight. “Yes.”

“Can I tell _you_ something?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“The reason I agreed to go out with you last year is because I’d just kissed my best friend for the first time while we were drunk, and she laughed about it afterwards.”

Harry was silent for a long moment. “But you meant to do it.”

“Somewhere deep down, yeah, I think so.”

“And you still love her?”

Taylor had to think about it. Had she ever loved Karlie? Did she love her now? She wasn’t even sure she knew what love was supposed to feel like. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to?”

Taylor wasn’t sure what exactly he was asking, but she knew that she didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “I don’t know,” she replied helplessly. “Do you love him?”

“All the time,” he said again, like it was just that easy. Nothing was that easy. “Close your eyes,” he ordered unexpectedly, not giving Taylor a chance to respond.

“What?”

“Close your eyes and kiss me the way you’d kiss her.”

Taylor turned slowly and inched forward, closing the distance between them. She waited until their noses touched before she closed her eyes, and then it was simply a matter of tilting her head for their mouths to connect.

His lips were soft, his skin smooth, and with her eyes closed, Taylor could make herself believe that she was kissing Karlie the way she wished she could. The way she’d never get to.

“Do you think you’ll ever get over him?” Taylor asked once she’d broken the kiss.

Harry’s eyes were still closed as she pulled away. They fluttered open when he spoke. “Not fully, no. But that’s just how it is. And maybe someday you find someone better.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, it’s always a maybe,” Harry remarked with a soft smile.

The Harry lying next to her now was nothing like the bubbly eighteen-year-old Taylor had left behind. Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe if they’d been honest with each other from the start—

“Yeah,” she said finally. “Maybe you’re right.”


End file.
